


Alan's Delivery Service

by champagne_cake



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Kiki's Delivery Service AU, Language of Flowers, M/M, semi-deep conversations, teen!alan, teen!eric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_cake/pseuds/champagne_cake
Summary: Kiki's Delivery Service AU ft. flower language and Jiji-but-not-Jiji. Alan has a plant he needs to get across the river. Eric has a boat.
Relationships: Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby, Nina Hopkins & Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Alan's Delivery Service

_Hello, Delivery Boy. Alan’s your name, correct?  
  
Please take this fern to my dear old friend, who lives across the lake. I’ve got a busy day full of errands ahead of me, so I don’t have time myself. Sincerest apologies for its size, as I’ve been raising it for quite a while on my own, and I didn’t realize how big these got! My friend will be able to care for it much better than I can in this tiny cottage.  
  
Thank you so much._

“Looks like they’ve left it outside for us,” Alan confirmed, folding the small note, and sliding it into his pocket, as his familiar — a snow-white cat named Edelweiss (nicknamed Weiss) — pawed at the flower pot.

“Awfully big,” the cat observed. “This isn’t going _anywhere_ on that broom. Poor thing’ll snap!”

“Oh, I’m _aware_ of _that,_ Weiss,” the young witch sighed, taking in the sight. The fern was indeed massive for a house plant. Being lightly built, he wouldn’t be surprised if it weighed nearly as much as himself. He hadn’t considered the possibility of heavy deliveries, admittedly. After all, his specialty was bouquets and _small_ pots at the most! “But we can’t simply leave it here, they’ll be upset.”

“What are you going to do?” Weiss asked curiously, tilting his head.

“Only thing I _can_ do,” Alan sighed, bracing himself before making a futile attempt to lift the pot manually.

Once, twice, thrice, and all he’s done is move the plant a grand total of six inches, and gain ten aching fingers, much to the bored amusement of Weiss. Defeated and panting, he gazed across the lake to the house he was tasked to carry the fern all the way to. What normally would’ve been a ten to fifteen-minute ride at most on his broomstick, now seemed like a Herculean task. The streets bustled, but there was nothing of use to him — nobody with a conveniently vacant wheelbarrow or truck. He would’ve been much too shy to ask to use it anyway.

 _It’s not my only delivery today, either,_ he recalled, growing worried and frustrated, facing the stubborn plant once more. Alan briefly considered dragging it all the way to its destination. It could work, certainly, but he might just _die_ from embarrassment before completing the journey.

Weiss yawned, lazily grooming himself in the sun as his distraught master further contemplated the situation. “Don’t fall asleep _now,_ Weiss, help me think of a solution!” Alan scolded.

“What can _I_ do? I’m only a cat,” was his response. “Why don’t you ask someone for help? That plant needs to get across the river, whether it likes it or not. And whether _you_ like it or not.”

 _Really, who taught you to speak this way to the one who feeds you every single day?_ But Alan held his tongue, for he knew the cat was right. He’d always been a bit of an oxymoron — somebody who wanted more than anything to share the company of others, but was often far too shy and reserved for his own good. Perhaps now, it’s finally caught up to him.

_“Mrrrrow_ , he looks helpful,” Weiss called, gesturing its head toward a stranger in the near distance, before immediately taking off, much to Alan's shock.

“Hey! Weiss — come back here!” Alan could only watch helplessly as his familiar ran off to another boy — one slightly taller than him, with blonde — no, brown two-toned hair, in a style Alan could only describe as one which reminded him of his broom.

He got a better look as Weiss ran in circles around the stranger’s legs to gain his attention, but froze as the cat gestured back at him — causing the stranger to notice, and offer a two-finger peace salute.

“Ay there. Looks like your cat isn't too fond of that plant.”

“Oh, he isn’t fond of _many_ things,” Alan sighed, frowning in Weiss’ direction for running off.

“I’m sorry he ran up to you,” he apologized, turning to study the messy youth before him. He wore a red and white striped shirt, distressed jeans, and work boots. “Weiss here doesn’t always like listening to what I say.”

“Weiss, eh? Fancy name,” the boy commented. “And no harm done, my name’s Eric.” He reached out a hand to shake Alan’s.

“I’m Alan,” he responded, meekly returning the gesture. “It’s actually short for Edelweiss, like the white flowers, but everyone calls him Weiss for short.”

“Fancy name for a fancy cat,” Eric observed, watching as the cat stooped once more by Alan’s feet, to groom himself. “So what’s the deal with that plant? ”

“I have to deliver it to someone — I need to take it across the lake, but it’s very, very heavy.”

Eric’s eyes widened. _“Are you a witch?”_

 _“What, have you never seen one before?”_ Alan spat under his breath. It wasn’t his intention to be rude, however, Eric's sudden comment made him nervous. It only took him a brief moment, however, to recollect himself.

“...yes, I _am_ a witch,” Alan finally sighed, picking up his broom. “I’ve come to town for a year to begin my self-training. Which can resume, as soon as I find a way to move this fern.”

Eric grinned and folded his arms — friendly, mischievous dimples appearing on either side of his face. “ _I_ can help you lift that plant, _and_ I can take you across the lake in my boat — if I get to see you have a flight on that broom.”

“I’m not a circus act!” Alan retorted. He was a witch! He didn’t just fly, because people wanted to see it. Flying was a craft, and _not_ an easy one to master, at that.

 _“A-laaaaan,”_ Eric whined.

“He has a point, you know,” Weiss piped up, licking his paw. “You and I both know you can’t lift that thing on your own, and Eric has a way across that river that _won’t_ break your broom. And all he wants in return is to see a witch in action. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me. But of course _that_ choice is up to _you_. It is _your_ delivery.”

 _Why's Weiss always right when I don’t want him to be?_ “...fine,” Alan sighed. “If you help me make this delivery, I do have another I need to make today. It’s rather far from here, so I’ll need to fly in order to get there. I suppose I can show you then how it works.”

“Ahh, sweet!” Eric cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “This is the sickest! I get to see a real-life witch, _and_ I get to see him _fly!”_

 _“You’ll get to see a real-life witch make_ _deliveries_ _,”_ Alan corrected, gesturing for Weiss to return to his side. “Now help me lift the pot.”

Eric obliged, lifting his half of the pot with little struggle, as he turned toward the river. Alan struggled to keep up on foot, share as much of the fern’s weight as he possibly could, _and_ consistently cart his broom along. Weiss followed along at his own pace, occasionally stopping to absorb the city’s surroundings whenever the boys stopped to catch their breath.

“So...how long’ve you been a witch?”

“...since I was...very young, I suppose...”

“Were you born one? Is your mam a witch?”

 _So many questions!_ “Witches tend to raise witches.”

Eric laughed, “Ya got me.” _  
_

“...and yourself,” Alan finally spoke, this time on his own accord. “...what do you do…?”

“Hm, well, I woke up this morning, had breakfast, got the mail, and now I’m here, helpin’ you move this fern.”

 _“...Eric!”_ Alan exclaimed — shaking his head, but undoubtedly beginning to laugh, still attempting to maintain his hold on the flower pot. “I meant in general! Do you have any hobbies?”

“Oh, hobbies! That’s what you meant! Well — I think airplanes are mighty neat. So’re cars! I work on ‘em sometimes with my old man.”

“I see," Alan grinned, straining to make those last few steps to the beach.

“Whew! There’s the river,” Alan panted, dropping the flower pot, and taking a break to stretch. “We carried it all the way here.”

“That we did!” Eric exclaimed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, and kneeling down to pet Weiss.

“The view from here’s stunning!” Alan marveled, gazing across the vast, shimmering body of water.

“I get to see it every day,” Eric mused, untying one of the canoes from the rack. “You're not from around here, are you?”

“I’m not,” Alan responded, watching the clouds roll slowly by. “I flew a long way from home in order to grow and develop my abilities — it’s something every witch must do for a year, once they turn thirteen.”

“Wha — ? You’re livin’ by yourself? Don’t you get lonely?”

“Not particularly. I have Weiss, and deliveries have been keeping me busy. The owner of the flower shop is also very, very kind.”

Eric was learning a lot about witches today, and Alan was learning about his city. Quite enriching, however, Eric didn’t want to delay — the boy _did_ have a delivery to complete, after all. He called Alan's attention back down to earth with a loud _thud-thud_ of the oar handle against the bottom of the canoe.

“Boat’s ready. Let’s get the plant in.”

“Oh. Right,” Alan spoke, mildly caught off-guard, approaching once more, to help hoist the fern into the center of the canoe, before stepping into the boat himself. “I’m surprised we haven’t spilled any of the soil.”

“I'm surprised it hasn't fallen out,” Eric chuckled, pushing the boat into the water, before quickly hopping in as the two left shore. “Whoo! Let’s go, onward!” The blonde hoisted the oars into their respective sockets, and began to row.

~ ❀ ~

“I know I've asked you many questions already,” Eric began. “But I don’t think I can help it — I’ve just never seen a real witch in the flesh before.”

“He’s curious about you!” Weiss exclaimed.

“I’m glad you’re curious, then,” Alan responded thoughtfully. “It’s always good to learn about things you’re afraid of, because…then you’re not as afraid anymore. My grandmother told me people once feared us. A lot, actually. They wanted to burn every witch who ever lived.”

“Burn ‘em? That sounds like quite the leap. Grown-ups sure do love jumpin' to conclusions.”

“Indeed,” Alan sighed, gently stroking Weiss’s fur. “Our community’s rather important to us, even when we’re not all together. I do miss my family, and the witches that I grew up with.”

“That makes sense. Can’t imagine gettin’ kicked out tomorrow, and havin’ to make all-new friends in an all-new city by myself.”

“So you’ve lived here all your life? Mighty nice place to call home, I’d say.”

“Yup! Nothin’ quite like it. What’s your old place like?”

“Oh, it was rainy, but all that really meant was every day the sun was out was a really good day. And it helped the flowers grow! Everyone has very nice gardens there. I think that’s what drew me to the florist when I landed in this town...I was looking for something that reminded me of home.”

“You like flowers, eh? Take a look to your left — a little higher.”

The two passed the side of a grassy hill, where there sat a grand cherry blossom tree. Pink blooms rustled gently in the wind as they passed — until suddenly, a strong breeze swept through the tree, sending dozens of pale petals scattering through the air and into the river, like snow.

 _“My hat!”_ Alan whipped around, only to notice the straw hat he previously bore — the one with the bright red ribbon — was sailing off into the distance, soaring like a witch itself.

“Ah, it's just a hat, I’ll buy you a new one when we dock. There's two nice ladies who make ‘em on the other side of the river, and I have some spare pocket change.”

“Are you certain? I can’t trouble you more than I already have. ”

“It’s no worries, I gotta spend less of it on snacks and bubblegum anyway. ‘Sides, every witch needs a hat.”

“Hmm…” Alan’s attention had now shifted to a single blossom, one that landed in his lap. He picked it up gently by the edge of its stem, observing its fragile details. “These are cherry blossoms. Did you know they actually mean something in the language of flowers?”

“Language of flowers? You mean like French?”

 _“No,_ silly!” Alan chuckled. “It’s sort of like a secret code. Different flowers can be used to send messages, which is why people like delivering them to others. Cherry blossoms mean fragility — and the transience of life. Because they’re really fragile, and they can be swept away at any moment...much like how life can take you just about anywhere at any time.”

“Wow…” Eric muttered, lost for a moment in thought. The oars move absentmindedly before once regaining their focus. “That’s, uh...really neat. Never knew flowers had different meanings before.”

“They do,” Alan mused with a sigh, loosening his grasp on the blossom, and allowing the wind to carry it away with his long-gone hat. “It’s all really fascinating, in my opinion. My grandmother taught me all about them from a young age. I used to help her all the time in her garden. There were amaryllis, and anemone, azaleas, and...so, so many more. I do miss her.”

“Well — if you were able to find the florist, ‘cause you missed your home, maybe you’ll find someone who has a real nice garden you can help take care of, just like your nan. I get it’s probably lonely being away from your witch community, but there’s witches all over the world, probably. I just met one today. I don’t know what all of them mean, but I think it’s like flowers. There’s always gonna be someone blooming right beside you.”

Both of them were silent for a moment, hearing only the calm river in the wind, and birds off in the distance.

“Wise words,” Weiss broke the silence, though Alan was the only one who understood him.

“I think that’s true,” Alan smiled. “I've never thought of it that way myself, because I was always surrounded by the same ones.”

“There’s a whole bunch of purple flowers growin' outside my house, actually,” Eric recalled. “They’re called — now don’t laugh, but they’re called _ericas._ My mam’s fond of ‘em, but she won’t say whether or not they've got anything to do with my name.”

“Oh, ericas! Yes, they have a meaning too, in the language of flowers. They stand for…” and he hesitates briefly. “...loneliness.”

Eric shrugged. “Can’t be lonely if there’s a million of ‘em growin’ side by side. You sure there aren't mistakes in the language of flowers?”

“No mistakes,” Alan laughed, gaze meeting Eric’s, before shifting to the nearing dock. He was glad Eric wasn’t offended by that. “We’re almost at bay.”

“Right you are,” Eric confirmed, preparing to bring the boat to shore. The two stepped out, and removed the fern. Eric left the oars inside, and tied the boat firmly to the dock.

“So _—_ ” Eric began.

“The deliv-”

“New hat!” Eric proposed.

“O-oh, that’s not really — ”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Hopkins!” Eric shouted to someone from across the street.

“Oh, good day, Eric! Are you looking for a new outfit? Perhaps a leather jacket for a party?”

“Actually just need a hat today, for my mate, Alan. Took him across the river to make a delivery, and the wind blew it right off into the distance." Eric set off, jogging towards a clothing shop with its door open — a smiling brunette in glasses standing at the counter in the doorway. "D’you have anything new in today?” he asked, once he and Alan both drew nearer.

“Hmmm,” Nina tapped her chin, quickly scanning the witch from head to toe. “I know just the hat! Wove a fresh batch just this week with my _petite-mains_ back at the atelier, actually!”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Hopkins,” Alan smiled, quietly.

“So _formal,_ this one! That doesn’t sound like the pack _you_ typically bring around! Alan, darling, are you certain you aren’t being kidnapped?”

 _“Hey!”_ Eric exclaimed. “I hang out with lots of different people! William’s like that too, but he's a pain in th-”

 _“ — of course you do, Mr. Slingby,” _ Nina laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Alan blushed, unfamiliar with the two’s sense of humor, yet suddenly being found in it. He merely faded into the mood of the situation, covering silent giggles behind his hand.

“Now about that hat, I actually have it with me right here — hasn’t even been put on display yet, so both of you are getting the first look. An exclusive preview!”

“That's very kind of you to offer,” Alan remarked. She procured a hatbox, revealing a straw-woven boater hat with a dark violet ribbon adorning both the top, as well as hanging under each side underneath the brim. There were sculpted black currants serving as a brooch pinning it down on the side. Alan’s eyes widened, admiring all the details — absolutely speechless.

“Ah, that’s perfect!” Eric broke the silence. “Won’t fly away with the wind if it’s tied under your chin.”

“It’s beautiful!” Alan sputtered. “Such bright, vivid color."

“Thank you, dear!” Nina chuckled. “It’s berry-dyed, and we kept it there for a whole week. So that color should last you a long, long time!” Without dawdling, she placed the hat onto the boy’s head, allowing him to tie the straps on his own.

“Looks good,” Eric grinned, before reaching for his wallet.

 _Right! The price!_ Alan began to stammer, “Eric! The hat, are you cer-”

“Oh, that’s fine, hon! Eric’s mother's a regular — it was so kind of both of you to pay me a visit today. The hat’s all yours.” Nina waved her hands, patting Alan on his head.

“Sweet! Thanks, Ms. Hopkins!” Eric beamed, sticking his wallet back in his pocket.

“Are you sure!” Alan blurted out. “I’m positive these hats must take a lot of time and effort to make yourself, and I...I wish I had something I could give you in return.”

 _“Mrrrrrrow —_ just take the hat, Alan! You have a delivery to complete!”

“Sounds like Weiss is gettin’ impatient,” Eric commented, looking down at him.

“I suppose we should get going…” Alan squeaked. “Allow me, then, to make you a delivery sometime, of my own, Ms. Hopkins. I'll deliver any kind of plant, flower, or sapling I can find. Thank you, once again. And thank _you,_ Eric.”

“Oh, what a sweetheart! I'll certainly keep your services in mind _—_ good luck on your mission, boys!”

_"Thanks, Ms. Hopkins!"_

~ ❀ ~

“Well, I'd best be on my way. I have one more delivery scheduled today.” Hopping onto the stone ledge of a bridge with Weiss on his shoulder, Alan readied his broom. He’d done this before, and he knew what he was doing.

Eric watched with anticipation, wondering if the boy would actually fly. That caused a brief _pang_ of nervousness to run through him, as he prepared to take action should things fail to launch.

With one deep breath, Alan hopped off the bridge, and onto his waiting broomstick — all in one smooth, choreographed motion — only taking a brief lunge to the side, as his weight first descended on the flying device.

 _“Alan!!”_ Having only seen the boy fall, Eric sprinted over to the bridge, and peered over the edge.

Rebounding quickly from the initial plunge, Alan laughed, soaring back up above the bridge, circling the area so Eric could watch. “Look, Eric! I told you I could fly!”

 _No kidding._ “You're flyin’!” Eric cried, completely dazzled by the sight before him.

“As I said I would!” Alan laughed, returning to the bridge’s edge — floating just a few feet past its physical limits. “Thank you, once again, for helping me deliver the fern, Eric,” he smiled earnestly, looking the other directly in the eye. “And for the hat.”

“Worth it,” was all Eric could say in response. “Totally worth it,” earning a laugh from the other.

“So when will I see you again, Al?”

“Hm — when I have another delivery here!”

“When'll that be?”

 _So impatient!_ “When it's time,” Alan smirked, readying the broom to switch direction. _Hopefully soon._ “Goodbye, Eric.”

And with that, he was off like the wind — for not only deliveries waited, but with them, his future. Time stopped for no one, transient — ever-changing, just like the cherry blossoms. Things weren’t going to be the same forever, but there are little things that will always be the same everywhere one travels. Perhaps one of them is a friend.

“So long, Alan,” Eric breathed, watching as the witch and his cat drifted further and further into the endlessly blue sky, like the birds and clouds they traveled amongst. _Come back soon...and teach me more about the flowers when you’re around, alright?_

Flowers were never anything Eric Slingby had any particular interest in, nor witches. But people were. And he liked this one. Perhaps enough to call him a new friend.

~ ❀ ~

“Nina? Nina, dear, where are you?”

Upon hearing her name, she looked up from the mannequin she was assisting in preparation for the day's customers. "I'm right by the window, Grell, what is it?"

Grell was pleased. She'd been working on a solo project for a little over half a year, based on a concept she and Nina dreamed up together — beauty, elegance, and poise matched with fiery, limitless _passion._

"She's finally complete — the first page of a new chapter in my work. Voila!" Grell whipped off the sheet of fabric concealing the dress form she'd taken down from the upstairs workshop.

Revealed was a luxurious crimson coat with details of golden embroidery and fur trim. “She speaks loudly enough for herself as is, but I can't help, but feel she's missing an accent — a background character to embellish her already-exciting life, if you will. I'm pleased with this construction one-hundred percent, however...what do you think we should add when showing her off in the window?"

“Hmm,” Nina squinted, studying the piece carefully from top to bottom, every small detail and stitch. “Golden leaves embroidered all over the front — an endless wall of ivy...”

“Perhaps some _flowers_ might do?" Grell thought out loud. "Something gentle to contrast the sparks of romance. Or fear, depending on how you read them.”

 _“Flowers, that's it!”_ Nina looked up. “You've always been a genius with the craft, I know just the florist.”

“Something red, of course. Maybe spider lilies? I hear they mean abandonment — ‘never to meet again’ — in the language of flowers. Riveting _and_ dramatic, if you ask me!”

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" Nina laughed, picking up the store telephone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> petite-mains: (lit. "small hands" in French) artisans that craft pieces in fashion houses  
> currants: "The receiver has pleased the giver."


	2. Prologue (Bonus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus scene inspired by the scene in the beginning of the movie, where Kiki meets the snooty fortune teller witch! Yes, I know I already mentioned Will in a throwaway line last chapter, but I ended up writing this after 80% of the main story, and I thought the line was funny, and didn't want to cut it out, so let's toss out consistency this one time, yeah?

“Hello — good evening!” Alan called, shyly approaching the other witch perusing the clear night skies.

“It _was,”_ the boy muttered stoically — eyebrows raised, expression bored; as if it was all he could muster without sneering. Somehow the pigeon on his shoulder appeared just as dissatisfied as its master. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“I am, I actually just left home this evening,” Alan smiled weakly, attempting to make pleasant conversation. “My name’s Alan — what’s yours?”

“Hmm...would you mind turning off that radio? It’s rather **distracting,”** the boy enunciated his final word _very_ carefully.

“Oh — of course! Apologies, I realize not everyone fancies this sort of music.”

“Thank you. My name’s William T. Spears. I’m actually heading home now from my own year-long journey.”

 _“You’re William T. Spears!”_ Alan exclaimed, chartreuse irises widening

Finally turning to make a slight semblance of eye contact, one eyebrow raised. “And?”

Blushing, Alan stammered, “Well...everyone knows about you in my town! You’re a prodigy! You helped lead witch training while you were still going through it yourself. Incredible, I’d say…”

_“More like an incredible_ _weed_ _,”_ Weiss wanted to comment.

“Hm,” William turned away from Alan once again, closed lips parting in a small, self-satisfied grin. “That’s child's play compared to where I’m at now. I can’t wait to go home, and show off all my amazing new skills. Perhaps I’ll be _all_ you hear about once _you_ return home.”

“...Perhaps,” Alan agreed nervously.

“I’d best be on my way. _Good luck_ to you,” and with that, William soared downward toward a bright town in the distance.

“...Thanks.”

_**“What a** _ **_snob_** ** _!”_** Weiss spat, as soon as the “prodigy” was out of earshot.


End file.
